


Stained (And Other Old Archived 9 Fanfictions)

by Patchlamb



Category: 9 (2009)
Genre: Angst, Anthology, Blood, Family Fluff, Gen, Poetry, archive, old fanfics, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchlamb/pseuds/Patchlamb
Summary: It's easy for fanfiction to be lost when it is behind guest-locked forum threads. So I'm re-uploaded my old, old 9 fanfictions here onto AO3 so I won't lose them. These were written by me, as a child. Keep that in mind.
Relationships: 6 & everyone
Kudos: 3





	1. Stained

**Author's Note:**

> Modern note: I have not edited these old fanfics past removing broken code (such as the word "blood" supposed to be highlighted in red). Have fun reading all the typos! I certainly delights me!
> 
> Original note: Meh, had this fic with my OC 98 in my head today,  
> Not very good I don't think. But that depends on what the reader thinks.  
> Hope you enjoy it... :-X :-/  
> *Sews her mouth shut*
> 
> (originally posted Aug 28, 2009 at 1:09am on The 9 Forum)

Silence echoed through the library.

So quite and still. But 98 knew that it truly was not still.

That it was always moving in the shadows, always watching her.

Watching every one in pure darkness; Death.

She looked up. A picture was taped too the wall in-front of her. It was painted in a red,  
Sticky substance. Creating abstract art that made nothing in particular.

"Such a pretty color, this red is!" She said in glee, clasping her hands together.  
"I want to make something like this too!" She thought for a moment. "I know, I can make  
Something for 3 and 4! After all, they have helped me stay alive for the past- well, how ever  
long I have lived here."

She glanced around. Looking for something that she could draw with or draw on. "I want to draw with that pretty color.."  
So she walked away from it to find her paint and papers. Soon, 98 found a jar of what seemed to be the same thing used  
in the painting she had come across earlier while exploring.

Full to the top with the sticky liquid. It took some time, but 98 finally stacked up enough books to use as stairs  
so she could reach it. She had also found a large sized piece of worn out paper, tearing a part off to use for her  
drawing.

She would dip her hand in the jar, hand being covered in it as it seeped and dripped off her slowly, oozing.  
Shaking some off so it did not leave a mess, 98 lept off the stack and skipped over to  
the near by paper. Getting on her knees and smoothly whisping her hand across it. After she shaped it,  
she ran back up the books to re-cover her hand with the red substance, for it quickly dried.  
Then once more lept down and over to the paper and drew some more. This went on for a while.

Finally, 98 was done! "I bet they will love it! Good job, Spring, good job!" She praised her self.  
Though she didn't bother letting it dry enough before lifting it up in her hands. A bit of the thick globs of the  
liquid seeped down the paper, leaving trails of dripping, red goo. Even 98 herself was stained with the crimson  
paints. She hugged it, paying no mind to the wet feel and ignoring the fact her body and face had it clinging to her  
fabric and leaving her even more red and messy. Though she thought it would wash off.

So, 98 sprung off. Happily skipping along closer to where she would have been able to find 3 and 4, which was normally  
in the middle of the library. Tripping a couple of times as she did not pay much mind to where she ran.

But, eventually, 98 came up to where they had stood up a large scrap-book they had put together themselves using  
news paper articles and pictures to fill its pages. With her happy grin still stretched across her face, 98 called  
for them.

"3? 4? You there?" She yelled. Her voice almost seemed to eco in the dark, sky-light lit hideaway.  
For a few seconds she heard nothing, no shuffling, or clicking, it was just silent. But then 3 appeared from  
under a fallen book. He smiled as he saw her grinning way to happily.

"Oh, 3, where is 4?" She asked as 3 crawled out from the middle section that let him under it.  
He too looked around as she did. But they soon found him hidden behind a fairytale story. Nodded over leaning  
on the cover asleep. But they desiced to let him sleep.

"Well then, I m-made you two a picture." 98 turned it out wards to he could see it as she gestured to it with a claw  
like finger.

His eyes beamed with a look of interest. Quickly noticing the dripping red gush that was now finally starting to dry.  
He moved a hand across it, but quickly withdraws it too the feel of the cold sticky goop.

"Like it? I made it JUSSSTTT for you two." 98 giggled, rocking back and forth on her heels with a sort of shyness.  
He glanced up at her with a soft smile and nodded, then drew his gaze to his now colored hand. Looking at a bit shocked.

"Oh! S-sorry, I never let it dry." He touched the red ooze again and drew his hand away to examine it. As if trying to  
remember something. Then it clicked in his head. Relizeing what this was, why it was so sticky and why it had quickly  
stiffened on his hand. Trying to wipe it off on his legs, but it refused to rub off.

Once more he turned to 98, who was looking at him oddly.

"What you use to draw with?" His eyes asked.

"Ummm.." She thought over his flickering lights till finally understanding.

"I found this stuff in a jar, way off that way." she pointed over in an un-defined direction.

"Can I see?"

She nodded and began running to find it. 3 would scurry behind her heel.  
_______

They looked up at the jar, 3's eyes looked it over. He ran around the whole thing. Then coming back and dragging 98 along with him.  
3 pointed to a label. It was yellowed out and faded, but 3 read it clearly. Looking at her and flashing frantic light.

Tilting her head and optics to see the word inscribed on the label.  
Her lips moved and motioned out the word, but no sound came out.

Blood. 

And now she was stained with it.


	2. Cold War (Poem)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original note: Inspired by 9, of course...
> 
> (Originally posted Sep 10, 2009 at 10:55pm on The 9 Forum)

His eyes still pleading.

His voice is still bleeding.

He will go till the end of worlds to get what he's needing.

Still fighting in the war of which he's not leading.

His heart, it stoped beating.

Just waiting for you to begin beliving

that a world worth fighting for is worth all lifes more!

To the stars he is meeting,

The despair he is feeding,

But never stand for cheating!

So along the way, come to say

To say its time they pay!

Let not the spark of life

Go along in morbid strife,

Keep up the fight never lose your light!

And when the candle is put down,

When your soul is finally found,

Remember I'll be around,

To chain up the hounds.

Fly away resting soul,

You already payed your toll,

To the Heavens take flight,

Slipping in to falling night.

Even though you may be gone,

The war will still rage on,

And even though you may be small,

Its you who saved them all.


	3. Forgotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original note: I tried to do a fanfic that had a bit of  
> Sadness in it... I think I flailed. ><
> 
> (Original posted Sep 2, 2009 at 2:30am on The 9 Forum)

'Boom!' Thunder rippled through the sky. Lightning danced through the dull clouds.  
she sighed. Looking up at the hole that let the bit of light into the Library. Rain  
poured through. Thanks to 98, 3&4's book did not get messed up. She had stretched a  
leather strip of fabric above it. The rain simply rolled off the leather and into the Library floors.

98 shivered. She sat in the puddle of the freezing rain water. Waiting.

[glow=red,2,300]Waiting for the rain to stop.  
Waiting for the sun to rise.  
Waiting for the thunder to drop.  
Waiting for the lightnings demise.[/glow]

Six days.

Thats how long it had been. Six long days.

In the six days 98 continued to wait.

She had sat their the whole time. Quite and stiller than any mouse.  
Just simply... waiting. Watching. Listing.

But she never saw anything. She never heard anything.

... They never came.

"Where... Are you?" Quite whispers echoed through the wet library.

"Where have you gone? Why have you not come yet?"

Slow sobs began to form.

"Come back.."

'Boom!' The winds blew through the sky light. Freezing even the more frozen water.

".... Did you forget?"  
The leather fabric snapped off from the things that held it in place. Flicking out of sight  
in the bitter darkness of the night.

"..About me?"

Down the book fell. Pages melting from the ice cold rain. Glued newspaper slid off. Smudging words and pictures.  
It began to decay. Paper fabric molding and blending into the faded grey rain water. Becoming nothing in seconds.  
Lightning raced through the laughing clouds. Lighting up the world, it seemed. Even if it was always dark.

So as she sat there in the cold, She realized her nightmares had come true.

"But.. The world would be nothing if it were just me, And no you."

Optics tightening. She fell to her side in the wet, flooded floor.  
The cold stung her every fiber. Through her body the numb pain tore.  
Was it a bad Idea? Was waiting for them to return her promise something to regret?

"... Please... Don't forget.."  
And they never returned. They never came back.  
Even if they promised, trust was something she never lacked.

When they told her; "We will always return. No matter what!"  
she just bellived them; "You promise? No matter what? You wont forget me?"  
And they would nod; "We will never forget. No. Matter. What."

"... But you forgot."

The lightest whispers rose from nothing. The slightest of dim light stood at her side.  
With one voice the two sighed.

"We never forgot."


	4. Free as a Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted Oct 6, 2009 at 3:29am on The 9 Forum)

Daylight, how the sun is so hott is unknown to me. But I will have to get used to it.  
My color is draining away, white as it may seem to be clear and clean, sinless, but  
a female can do much more then expected.

What was I expected to do, exactly?

Ask this question to the Protector and he gives a some what simple answer of;  
"Do as I say, or go off and die for all I care!"

That was enough of his ugly voice I had to hear to understand his language..

Oh, sure, he does a good job at protecting everyone. But he is only surviving.  
Not living.

If I had a bit of child like spark like the twins I would have perhaps not minded much.  
After all, to them he is just an old man who screams; "Get off my lawn you whippersnappers!"  
Scuffling after them slowly, as they skitter quickly away to safety. Like meerkats. Swift.

But even they would say to him, in their own way of communication;

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy"

Of course, he could never understand. He couldn't even understand Body language from them.  
I could. I was like a mother too them.

It broke my heart. But I told myself to forget, and I would not only survive, I would live.

And finally I found out what it ment. "Free as a bird"  
Indeed, I was now infact the same such.

The skull draped over my head with the feathers flowing behind in the breeze. The sun rise  
was beautiful. Did they see the same sun rise from the watch tower?

Did they wonder where I was, where I had gone, If I was alive?

What do I care? Im free now.

.....................

But how can I just forget them...

After all they had done?

My stitching, my shield, and even my skulment had happened because of them.  
When I was hurt 5 and 2 would help sew me back together.  
Rather it be physical or emotionally. They tried to help any way they could.

And the laughter young 6 brought. He was a happy fellow, even though when  
we turned our backs on him he would cry to himself. When we turned back around  
to look at him he would quickly lift his head and smile. As if he was the happiest  
child alive.

How 8 kept away the beast when it attacked us out in the Emptiness, that one time.  
How he helped hide us from the Walkers before we found the Cathedral.

And I can even say 1 had helped me.  
Many times.  
More then I'll ever know.  
Trying his best to keep me safe and out of harms way. Even if by means of  
locking me in a cage like a songbird.

Oh, but this bird wasn't ment to sing. She was ment to fly!  
Thats where he went wrong..  
..................  
Thats where I went wrong

And now I watch the sun rise alone.

Feh, "Free as a bird"

.............

How can you be free when you're the cage?  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

END,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original end notes: What she ment at the end was 1 would keep her locked up alone and all that crud,  
> and now, even after running away, she was still alone.  
> Its 2 AM and I had nothing else to do, felt like doing something for 7.


	5. Inner Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Originally posted Oct 5, 2009 at 11:26pm on The 9 Forum)

6 POV

The month was October.

Well, thats what the humans called it... The month after September, and  
September was after August.

I think thats how it went. 1 had a calender out to the side near his Thrown Room but he  
rarely used it for keeping track of days or months.

Just for marking off numbers.

Like 7....

..Like 3 and 4.  
_______

The afternoon threw a mix of colors across the Thrown room.  
A dusty Orange brown with a hint of Gray reflecting off  
the small dust particles floating aimlessly around the room.

And some times the room looked slightly pink. Perhaps it was the clouds blocking  
the sun in a manner that caused the light to look different to those who looked to it.

Either way the sun shown, it was still cold. And became colder once the Gray clouds  
filled the sky.

'Skritch skritch' nimble fingers seemed to dance across yellowed and torn paper. It was lovely.  
How the jet black, sticky ink mixed into thick globs and collected in small jars became steady lines  
that formed pictures.

Some pictures where nice.

Others could be very frightening.

He did his best to stay out of the others way. And indeed, he kept quite when around them if not for  
light humming.

The fall's crisp winery air chilled through his fabric just as it did everyone else. He was no different and did fall  
victim to freezing up at times. The ink quickly dried on his sharp finger tips to the cold air. And his spine  
tremored as the rest of his body did.

If only he had a warmer bed.

All he really had was some ragged cloth to sleep on, and under.  
But most of the time the feeling of paper beneath him felt warmer.

So he normally fell asleep over his work. Waking up with more ink stains to his head, and if the drawing was large enough,  
to his legs and waist.

Some times at night when the Cathedral was only lit by a light moon, he would sneak into someone Else's room and snuggle  
up with them in a struggle to not freeze from the inside out.

For all day and night he suffered the stiff numbing pain of an ever chilling frame. It hurt to move some joints when they became as stiff  
as they did.

But the other Stitchpunks beds where warm. And most of the stitchpunks themselves were, too. So he didn't feel guilty to secretly cuddle with  
one of them during the howling night.

Rather it be 2, a loving grandfather figure.

Or 5, a best friend and heartful companion.

Perhaps 7, when she was not out late at night and came to sleep in the Cathedral, Though she did leave in the morning.

And even 8 or 1 would be his counterpart sleeper at times. But they didn't know. So he never got scolded for showing affection or being  
'Too weak and frail'.

____________

6 POV

It was so cold! I couldn't help myself but to try and find a source of warmth. My key certainly did not surpass as that source,  
it was colder then my inner workings were!

So I simply wandered out of the Thrown Room. And soon found myself in a hall way after going up through the pulley system a little bit.  
I searched with my hands and not my eyes. It was too dark to see. And not even dilating them would help any.

Nuh uh.

Too dark.

Then I felt an opening. And and odd sense fell through my mind. I had gone up-  
...  
I think I went up, at least...  
Not to sure, now, but I did know I had found someone Else's room.

And so inside I went. The room its self had been warmer upon entering. I still could not tell where I really was or who's room it was.  
But soft breathing helped me find my way to the stitchpunk occupying it.

I reached out.  
Felt nothing.  
Moved to the right a little bit.  
And then I felt the rough burlap against my near ice nibs.

'Burlap... 5?'

Indeed, it was 5! I had found 5's room. Though I was still not sure if I had gone up or down or not.  
What did that matter, anyways?

With a small smile and a sigh to the rising feeling of my hand warming, I shifted myself to climb over and beside him.  
He groaned a bit. But didn't wake up.

I wish he would.

But I wish he wouldn't.

If he woke, he might make me leave. And then I would have to stumble through the dark and risk hurting myself again.  
If he woke, would he be mad? Would it be awkward? Im not sure. And really did not care at the time.

But I still hoped if he did happen to wake, that he would rap his arms back around me and help me stay flustered in his bodies heat.  
He was nice like that. Not like 1.

1 would shove me off and wack me on the head with his hard staff. Then send me back to that dark corner that he calls "My space".

So, carefully I laid down beside my dear friend. And slowly turned over and snuggled next to his side.  
He was laying on his back, I could tell. His hand on my side barely over his chest. The other most likely hanging limp over the edge of his  
little make shift bed.

I sighed contently in relief as my body slowly began to allow me to drift out of that sting the cold numbness forces upon me.  
Hands drenched over across his chest to hug around his heated body.

I wondered how my friends, not just 5, but all the others as well stayed to warm on the inside while I nearly froze to death.  
It was a mystery I am to never uncover, I guess.

Oh, he moved. Is he awake?

I closed my eyes as if to bring the light from my dreams. Though I hate how I can't just drift into dream land as I please.  
I don't care if it be a nightmare, or not right now. I just want a dream. Them 5 shifted his arm. Pulling it from under mine;

And put it around me, moving his hands across my striped back a few times lovingly.  
...  
Was he awake now?

I never really found out if he had been awake or not, to tell the truth. But I felt a blissful tingle through my spine.  
I liked the think he was smiling.  
Maby he was?

Then again,

Maby he wasn't.

______________________

The next night he had found someway into 8's large, strong arms. But he wasn't has warm as 5.

And then to 2's, a few nights after sleeping alone. Who had known clearly that 6 had cuddled up  
to him the night before; after the day rose and he awoke to the small doll still clenched around him.  
Though even before he had visual evidence of him clinging like he did. He still knew. Just that knowingness he had that no one else  
seemed to.

Then with 1, strangely he found a more safe feeling when sleeping close with the elder. Even if he was a bit harsh.

And when he went to 7 on a ever so colder night, he found her awake with a Christmas light or so still lighting a small  
space where she had her bed. And she welcomed him to her like a mother would a child that had a nightmare;  
Holding the young stitchpunk close as if to protect him from the nightmares that did indeed haunt him.  
And even though she left him alone in he bed as soon as the sun had risen, he still felt like her slender body was  
hugging to him tightly. He felt warm.

And not just his inner frame and workings. No, not just his striped fabric skin.

But a deeper warmth.

Almost as if he was loved.  
Loved by each and every one of them.

Even 1, though he would never show it.

The inner warmth. Like he had a heart.  
And truthfully,

He was, infact, one of he most beloved of them all.  
Yes,

beloved.  
(end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original end notes: Oh, crapy title, I just came up with this at least a month ago in a diff fanfiction in my computer.  
> Just re done it into something nicer...


End file.
